Die Hard Movie Marathon
by Dean's Dirty Little Secret
Summary: Dean shows up, begging to watch his Die Hard movies in Amie's motel room and she reluctantly agrees. It was completely harmless, they were just friends and there was nothing wrong with two friends sharing an evening in, watching movies. Right? Dean and Amie one shot, set before "The Winchester Way." M rating for mature themes/language/smut. Dean x OC. Reviews appreciated!


**_Author's Note: I wanted to get this up sooner, but life got in the way! This one-shot takes place after 8.04 Bitten. It is just after Dean and Amie have been touched by the cupid. Enjoy (and please review)!_**

**_Die Hard Movie Marathon_**

**Washtenaw County, Michigan**

Amie had just managed to get off her long-sleeved flannel shirt, carefully pulling the sleeve over her cumbersome cast without ripping it when there was a knock on the door. She picked her gun up from the bed where she had set it, frowning at the fact that she was a little too exposed – just a tiny tank top, a pair of boy shorts and no god damn shoes – to be dealing with anymore monsters tonight. Of course, monsters usually didn't knock.

She stepped up to the door, awkwardly holding her gun in her cast-clad hand as she peered through the peephole. A set of perfect, emerald green eyes stared back at her. She took a moment to catch her breath, leaning her head against the door. What the hell was he doing here? She wasn't sure she could handle Dean Winchester right now.

A loud thump from the other side of the door startled her. "Amie, come on, open the door," he grumbled.

Desperately trying to compose herself and praying she could act nonchalant, Amie grasped the door handle. "Dean? What's wrong?" she asked as she pulled the door open.

"Can I come in?" he asked, gesturing to the room behind her with a hand holding a six pack of beer.

She nodded and he stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. At some point before he had pounded on her door, he had managed to shed two of his customary three layers, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt that clung very nicely to his chest and abdomen. His biceps were on display, stretching the cotton material to its limits. His jeans were well-worn and tight in all the right places.

"Sammy's being a bitch," he whined. "Can I watch TV in here?"

"Wh…what?" Amie gulped, trying not to stare at the gorgeous specimen of a man standing in front of her, the man who was seemingly oblivious to the affect he was having on her. She plastered a smile on her face. "Why?"

"I found a Die Hard marathon on HBO," Dean explained. "But Sam's neck deep in all the research stuff on pureblood werewolves that he took from the professor's office and he keeps bitching about how loud the explosions are and how annoying my 'incessant need to say every one of Bruce Willis's lines' is." He made the quotes with his fingers in the air. "When I got the huffy breath for the hundredth time and the bitch face for the millionth time, I grabbed my beer and came over here to see if I could watch it with you." She didn't fail to notice how Dean surreptitiously looked her up and down as he talked.

"Um…" she mumbled. She was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying, her eyes flicking back and forth from his lips to his green eyes.

Dean took a few steps closer to her, until he was just inches away. "Come on, please?" he begged, a cute little smile on his face.

Amie took a deep breath, inhaling the very male scent of Dean. She put on her best grin as she held out her hand, praying Dean didn't notice that it was shaking. "As long as I get one of those beers. If I have to listen to you quote John McClane all night, I'm gonna need it."

Dean chuckled and put a beer in her outstretched hand. "You got it, babe," he laughed.

She stepped away from him, trying to control the urge to grab him and kiss him, instead grabbing the remote from the top of the TV and tossing it to him. "Knock yourself out," she said, setting her gun on top of her already packed suitcase.

A huge grin spread across the hunter's face as he hurriedly turned on the television and put it on the right channel. He turned in a small circle, a confused look on his face. "Huh?" he mumbled.

"What?" Amie asked.

"No couch? Or, you know, one of those chairs with a footstool?" he replied. "Our room's got one of those."

"Uh, no," Amie sighed. "Cheap ass motel, single hunter, single room. Sit on the bed," she shrugged.

Dean gave her one of his patented smirks. "With you?" he purred, one eyebrow raised.

She literally felt her stomach drop to her toes and her mind go blank. Every witty, smartass comeback she would normally say immediately left her brain and went on vacation. She put the beer to her mouth and downed half of it in just a couple of swallows. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a means of escape. Anything to get away from this conversation. It hadn't even occurred to her that she would be sitting on the bed with him, side by side. It was a tiny bed.

"I…um…yeah, wow, I…uh, I'll be right back," she squeaked and then she bolted for the bathroom door. She could hear Dean's low, throaty laugh as she slammed the door and threw the lock.

Amie bent over the sink, splashing cold water on her flushed cheeks. God damn Dean and his perfect face, and his perfect lips, and his perfect muscles, and his perfect perfectness. She took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this, she could go out there, sit next to him and watch movies for a few hours. Next to him on the tiny motel bed with him in that tight ass t-shirt with his muscles rippling…

"Jesus Christ," she muttered to herself. "Get a grip, woman." Unfortunately, she couldn't help thinking about the last time the two of them had been alone in her motel room and just how close they'd come to actually having sex. If it was possible, she was more in love with Dean now than she had been at the time, just a couple of months ago. She wanted him more now than she ever had.

She took a deep breath, grabbed a washcloth, scrubbed the make-up from her face and brushed her teeth. She briefly considered putting her jeans back on, but they were next to her suitcase in the other room and if she put them on now, Dean would just use it as an excuse to tease her some more.

Once she realized she couldn't waste any more time hanging out in the bathroom, she yanked open the door to find Dean sitting on the far side of the bed. He'd taken off his boots and positioned a couple of pillows behind his back. He shot her a grin when she stepped out.

"I was starting to think you died in there," he joked. "What took so long?"

"Just washing my face, brushing my teeth," Amie mumbled. "I was going to go to sleep until you showed up." She tossed her toiletry bag next to her suitcase, then stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to do.

"Screw sleep," Dean smiled. He patted the bed next to him. "Come on, it's just getting good." When Amie hesitated, he gave her a gentle smile. "I won't bite, I promise. Unless you like that sort of thing." He dropped her a wink and she felt her skin flush red.

He laughed again. "I'm teasing," he said. He took a long drink of his beer and patted the bed again.

She took a drink of her own beer, finishing what was left in the bottle. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to leave as much room as possible between her and Dean without making it obvious that was what she was doing. She took her braid in her hand and pulled out the rubber band holding it in place. She ran her fingers through the long plait, loosening it until it fell over her shoulders.

"I've always liked your hair," Dean said quietly. Amie felt him take a thick strand in his hand, caressing it with his fingers. He dropped it after a few seconds, but his fingers brushed across the bare skin of her shoulder as he put his hand back on the bed, sending a shiver through her.

"Would you relax?" Dean chuckled. "Here." He took one of the pillows from behind his back and set it behind her, then he took her arm and gave it a gentle tug.

Amie scooted back until she was leaning against the pillow. She stretched her feet out in front of her and crossed her ankles. Dean slid his hand down her arm and loosely grasped her fingers in his, squeezing them slightly. Their shoulders were touching and she could feel the heat radiating from him. She did her best to relax, but as long as he was this close to her, holding her hand for Christ's sake, that was not going to happen.

"Hey, hand me another beer, will you?" she asked, trying and failing, to keep her voice steady.

Dean gave her a funny look. Amie wasn't sure if it was because she'd asked for another beer and he'd never seen her drink more than one, or how nervous she sounded. If she was gonna sit here, on a bed, just inches from Dean Winchester, she was gonna need all the alcohol she could get. He handed her another one, that stupid knowing smirk back on his face.

They sat through the first movie like that, shoulder to shoulder, holding hands. They were about twenty minutes into the second movie and Amie was on her third beer, feeling slightly buzzed, when Dean leaned over, his mouth next to her ear.

"I love this part," he whispered. His breath blew across her shoulder and she shivered again.

"Are you cold?" he asked, sliding his arm around her and rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

She was going to say no, but the feel of his arm around her shoulder was…nice. To say the least. She felt herself leaning into him and he reciprocated by pulling her closer. It wasn't long before she was cuddled against his side and his cheek was resting against her head. She kept telling herself it was completely harmless, that they were just friends and there was nothing wrong with two friends sharing an evening in, watching TV.

At least it was completely harmless until she felt Dean's lips pressing against the side of her head, then behind her ear, then sliding down her neck. Without thinking, she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access and before she knew what was happening, his mouth was on hers and her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him back, not pushing him away and not trying to hide how she felt.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his lips still brushing hers as he spoke.

"Mm-hmm," she exhaled, stopping short of moaning at the feel of Dean's lips on hers.

"Thank God," Dean groaned. He probed at her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth and let him in. His hands snaked around her back and he moved them so they were lying side by side, their legs intertwined, never breaking contact between their mouths. He kept one arm around her and the other rested on her waist. Amie's unbroken hand was fisted in his t-shirt, trying to pull him closer, wanting every inch of him pressed against every inch of her.

Somewhere in the back of her head, where logic ruled, a tiny, barely discernible voice was telling her to stop, that it wasn't too late to walk away. Dean would pout, but he would be a gentleman about it, but she needed to _stop now_. Amie ignored that voice, she didn't want to hear it, didn't want to think about it. Right here, right now, being in Dean's arms, that was all she cared about. Forget her concern about being just another one of Dean's conquests, forget the fact that most days she was halfway in love with the green-eyed hunter and other days she just wanted to kick his ass. All she cared about was that Dean's hands were touching her, his tongue was in her mouth and she just didn't give a shit anymore.

Dean's mouth left hers, sliding down her neck to suck delicately just under her jaw. The hand resting on her back fisted in her long, red hair and with a gentle tug, he pulled her head back, exposing her neck to him. His lips ghosted over her neck, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could reach with his mouth. His grip tightened on her waist as he pulled her against his chest. When his rough, calloused hands slipped under the edge of her tank top and brushed against the soft skin above the waistband of her shorts, Amie moaned.

Dean immediately pulled away. "Sorry," he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry." He moved his hand off of her waist and rested it on her leg, just above her knee, before kissing her again, carefully, as if he expected her to reject him. She wasn't surprised, considering what had happened in Vale. But this time was different. This time she was ready and she wanted it, wanted Dean, even if it was only for one night.

Amie smiled against his mouth and grabbed his hand. She slid it up her body until it was resting once again under the edge of her shirt on her waist. "Don't stop," she whispered.

An unintelligible growl came from Dean and then he was kissing her again, harder and with more determination, biting and sucking at her lips and her tongue, his hands sliding over her body, under her shirt. His hand moved over her breast, barely grazing it, his thumb brushing the nipple, drawing a breathy whimper from Amie. The sounds she was making must have encouraged him, because he took the whole breast in his hand, kneading and massaging it gently, his thumb repeatedly caressing the nipple, until Amie was arching her back into his hand and desperately clutching at him.

Dean released her and reached up with one hand to pull his t-shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He used both hands to grab the bottom of Amie's tank top, inching it slowly up. Amie knew when he stopped and looked at her questioningly, that he was waiting for her permission. She nodded and he wasted no time pushing it up and over her head. The top briefly got hung up on her cast, causing them both to laugh, but Dean easily untangled it and threw it on the floor with his. He dropped his head and took her breast in his mouth with an audible sigh, his tongue flicking and swirling around the over-sensitive nipple.

"Oh my god," Amie exhaled, her eyes rolling back in her head. Jesus, but he had a talented mouth.

He shifted them slightly, so that she was lying under him, one of his knees between her legs and one hand splayed across her lower back. She could feel his arousal pressing into her leg as he moved against her. She released her hold on the back of his head, running her hand down his arm and across his stomach until she was able to rub his erection through his jeans.

Dean hissed, dropping his head to rest between her breasts before pulling himself up and taking her mouth once more. When she loosened his belt and unbuttoned the first button on his jeans, he broke off and pulled away, looking in her eyes.

"Wait," he panted. His voice was deeper and sexier than normal and his gorgeous green eyes were blown wide with lust. "Are you sure?"

Amie's answer was to release another button on his button-fly jeans and to use her cast covered forearm to pull him back to her, her tongue delving into his mouth. She nodded, not sure she could talk past the emotions running through her. She wanted this, more than she'd wanted anything in a very long time. She unsnapped another button, then the final one, before sliding her hand under the waistband and firmly grasping him. Dean's hips twitched forward as he groaned into her mouth.

"Touch me, Dean," she whispered.

He didn't need any more direction than that; he hurriedly pushed her shorts past her hips until she was able to kick them off and then she was lying completely naked in his arms. He pulled away and looked her up and down, almost as if he was caressing her body with his eyes. Amie could feel herself blushing under the intense scrutiny.

When his eyes finally reached hers again, he rested his forehead on hers. "God, you're gorgeous," he whispered as he kissed her again. "Absolutely gorgeous," he breathed, his voice shaky.

Amie laughed quietly. "Enough talking," she purred, her hand fisting in his hair.

With a deep growl, Dean reclaimed her mouth, biting at her lower lip, then licking it gently. He slowly slid a finger between her wet folds, his thumb rubbing slowly against her clit. Apparently, he wasn't just talented with his mouth. When he added a second finger, her back arched and she pushed herself against his hand, desperate for more. Dean moved his attentions to her breasts as his fingers continued working their magic. His tongue swirled and flicked at her breast before pulling the nipple into his mouth and suckling it gently. It didn't take long before Amie felt the familiar tightening in her lower stomach and she knew she was close, so when Dean carefully slid in a third finger, she lost it, heat flooding her body and her vision going white. Her moans of pleasure quickly turned to cries of "Yes, yes, yes," as he worked her through her orgasm.

Amie found herself practically tearing the rest of Dean's clothes from his body. They had gone this far and she didn't want to wait any longer. Once he was in the same state of undress as her, he moved so he was hovering over her, the tip of his erection teasing her overly sensitive opening. He eased himself inside her, both of them gasping at the feel of the connection. Dean seemed to understand that he needed to move slowly, as if he was somehow unconsciously aware of the fact that it had been a very long time since she'd had sex. He entered her slowly and carefully, stopping every few seconds to kiss her lips or run his tongue over her neck. Once he was fully seated inside her, he held her head between his hands and kissed her deeply and for a long time, not moving even the tiniest bit.

"Okay?" he finally asked.

"God, yes," she moaned in reply.

Dean moved his hips just a fraction of an inch and Amie thought she was going to explode, right then and there. He dropped his mouth to her neck, where he kissed, licked and sucked as he began slowly moving his hips with small, gentle thrusts. It wasn't long before they moved into a comfortable rhythm, their bodies moving with a synchronicity that belied the fact that this was their first time together. It was almost as if they were always meant to be together, so in tune were they with each other. It was slow and it was sweet, the movements of their bodies against each other interspersed with gentle kisses and affectionate touches.

Amie was drowning in the sensory overload, every kiss like fire on her skin, every touch like a shot of electricity. She couldn't stop herself from moaning Dean's name as the pleasure wound through her body.

Dean stopped moving, his forehead against hers. "Say it again," he whispered. "Say my name again." He eased out of her, then inched forward with a slow, tantalizing thrust, his lips pressed to the pulse point on her neck. He reached down and took her unbroken hand, lacing his fingers through hers as he held it above her head. "Please, baby, say my name again," he pleaded.

She opened her eyes and was met with beautiful emerald green eyes staring into hers, the pupils blown wide with desire, and a gentle, loving smile on Dean's freckle spattered face. When he moved his hips minutely, his name fell from her lips with a breathy whimper.

He moaned at the sound and in a heartbeat his movements went from slow and easy, to rough and hard. Amie groaned his name again. She clutched at his hand and her hips snapped up to meet his, desperate to feel every inch of him inside of her. She couldn't breathe and it felt like the room was spinning, and then her head was falling back as she came again, hard, and Dean was kissing her, his mouth everywhere, coaxing her through her orgasm as he continued rocking against her. His tongue delved into her mouth, devouring her and he was pulling her tight against his chest as he pumped frantically into her several more times before letting loose a long, shuddering breath as he came.

Dean collapsed against Amie's chest, breathing heavily. They laid there for several minutes, catching their breath. When he made a move to get off of her, she whimpered and shook her head. He chuckled and instead moved so he wasn't crushing her beneath him. He released her hand and pushed the hair from her face, before holding her chin in his hand and kissing her.

Time lost all meaning as they lay wrapped around each other, kissing. The only thing that mattered was them. They blocked out the rest of the world and concentrated solely on each other. Amie had no idea what time it was when they did finally fall asleep, both of them utterly exhausted, yet thoroughly satisfied.

* * *

><p>It was just after six a.m. when she woke up. Her head was killing her and she was confused about where she was. It was always like this at first, her brain had to take a second to catch up with where her body was currently holed up. When you spent so little time in one place, always on the road, you could easily forget what town, what hotel, shit, even what state you were in. She tugged the blanket up around her chin and shifted, trying to get comfortable. She realized she was naked under the blankets and that was when every second of the previous night came back to her in a flood of emotions. Amie put her hands over her eyes and took several deep breaths.<p>

She'd fought her feelings for Dean tooth and nail for weeks, months even, as she tried to keep her distance, tried not to let him get to her, or let her feelings get the best of her. But for some reason, all of that had gone straight out the window last night. She wanted to blame the alcohol, but she knew that wasn't it. She'd wanted it, wanted to be with Dean for a long time and last night had just been her finally giving in to those desires. This was so not going to help her from falling anymore in love with him than she already was.

She rolled over, expecting to bump against a very warm, very hard body lying next to her. Instead, she found herself looking at an empty bed.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled as she sat up and looked around the room. He was definitely gone – his clothes were no longer on the floor, even his partially full beer bottle was no longer on the table. The dingy motel room had an emptiness to it that could only mean he had left.

Amie pushed the blankets off of her legs, drew her knees up and rested her head on them. This was not good. This…this was bad, very, very bad. She and Dean had been flirting for months, and after last night, which had been amazing, she had felt a connection to Dean like she'd never felt before. She had hoped he had felt it, too. She knew that he didn't feel the same way she did, after all, she was in love with the green-eyed hunter. She had been for a while now, longer than anyone suspected. But Dean Winchester didn't fall in love, he fell in lust, got his rocks off and then went on his merry way. In typical Dean Winchester fashion, he'd run as soon as it was over, distancing himself from her and anything resembling feelings as quick as he could. She'd just become the notch on the bedpost that she hadn't wanted to be.

The thought made her blood boil. Anger flooded her as she shot to her feet, grabbed the closest thing to her hand, and sent it flying into the wall above the bed. The beer bottle shattered, glass and warm beer exploding through the tiny room, covering her. She screamed, furious with herself for letting Dean in when she should have known better.

She stalked to the bathroom, flinging the door open so hard it hit the wall. She snapped on the light, grabbed a towel to wipe the beer off of her face, and leaned over the sink to turn on the water. When she finally looked up, there was a piece of paper with her name on it taped to the mirror. She turned off the water and dried off her hands before pulling it off and unfolding it.

_Amie-_

_Sorry I had to leave. Sam called, he's got a lead on Kevin. I'll call you in a few days. We can get together and finish the movies. Wink, wink._

_Take care of yourself, I want you in one piece._

_Dean_

Amie couldn't help the grin that spread across her face at Dean's goofy attempt at flirting. Okay, so maybe she'd been wrong about him. He hadn't run and he wasn't trying to distance himself from her. And while the note wasn't a confession of love, it also wasn't a brush off. Maybe there was something there after all.

One thing she knew for sure, she couldn't wait to find out.


End file.
